_The Palace gates thrown open, discover_ HERCULES
_stretched on the ground and sleeping_.
AMP. Ye aged Thebans, will ye not be silent,
Will ye not suffer him dissolved in sleep
His miseries to forget?
CHOR. These tears, these groans,
To you, O venerable man, I pay,
To those slain children, and the chief renowned
For his victorious conflicts.
AMP. Farther still
Retire; forbear, forbear those clamorous sounds,
Lest his repose ye break, and from a trance
The sleeper rouse.
CHOR. How dreadful was this slaughter!
AMP. Ha! ha! begone, for he in wild confusion
Is starting up. Why will ye not lament,
Ye aged men, in a more gentle tone?
Lest roused from sleep he burst his chains, destroy
The city, smite his sire, and with the ground
Lay these proud mansions level.
CHOR. This I hold
Impossible.
AMP. Be silent, I will mark
Whether he breathe: O let me place my ear
Still closer.
CHOR. Sleeps he?
AMP. An accursed repose,
Alas! he tastes, who hath his consort slain,
And slain his sons with that resounding bow.
CHOR. Now wail.
AMP. I wail those children’s fate.
CHOR. Your son,
Alas! old man, our equal pity claims.
AMP. Observe strict silence, for again he rises
And turns around: I will conceal myself
Beneath that roof.
CHOR. Be of good cheer: night seals
The eyelids of your son.
AMP. Mark, mark me well,
I am so wretched that without reluctance
I can bid life adieu: but if he kill
Me too who am his father, guilt on guilt
Shall he accumulate, and join the stings
Of parricide to those which from the Furies
Who haunt him, he already doth endure.
CHOR. Better you then had died, when you prepared
T’ avenge the slaughtered brothers of Alcmena,
And stormed the fortress of the Taphian isle.
AMP. Fly, leave the palace instantly; avoid
That frantic man, who from his sleep is roused,
For adding soon fresh slaughter to the past,
With Bacchanalian transport shall he range
Through Cadmus’ city.
CHOR. Why hast thou, O Jove,
Hated thy son so bitterly, and plunged him
Into this sea of troubles?
HER. [_waking._] Ha! I breathe,
And view each wonted object, air, and earth,
And these bright solar beams. Into what storm,
What dreadful perturbation of the soul
Have I been plunged! all heated I transpire,
Not from my lungs, but from my feverish heart.
Behold me! wherefore am I bound with chains,
Like a disabled ship towed into haven,
And by this youthful chest and nervous arm
Joined to a broken pillar? Here I sit
Contiguous to the corses of the slain;
My winged shafts lie scattered on the ground,
With that unerring bow which erst I bore
In war to guard me, and with care preserved.
Sent by Eurystheus, am I then arrived
A second time at the drear shades beneath?
Neither the rock of Sisyphus, nor Pluto,
Nor Ceres’ sceptred daughter, do I see.
I sure am stricken senseless with amazement,
And know not where I am. But ho! what friend
Is near, or at a distance, who will come
To give me information? For each object
Which I was erst acquainted with seems strange.
AMP. Shall I approach this scene of my afflictions
Ye aged men?
CHOR. I will attend your steps,
Nor meanly in calamity betray you.
HER. Why dost thou weep, my sire, and veil those eyes,
Retiring far from thy beloved son?
AMP. My son—for though unhappy, you are mine.
HER. But what calamity do I endure
That causes thee to shed these tears?
AMP. Your woes
Are such, that any god, if he endured
The same, would groan.
HER. This hath a dreadful sound:
But you, my fortunes have not yet explained.
AMP. Because if you your senses have recovered,
Yourself behold them.
HER. Tell me what thou mean’st—
If to my charge thou lay’st some recent crime.
AMP. If you no longer to the powers of hell
Are subjected, the truth will I unfold.
HER. Alas! how darkly thou again allud’st
To what my soul suspects.
AMP. Your looks I watch
To see if reason wholly be restored.
HER. I recollect not that I e’er was frantic.
AMP. [_to the_ CHORUS.]
Shall I unbind the shackles of my son,
Or how must we proceed?
HER. Say who was he
That bound me? for with scorn have I been treated.
AMP. Thus much of your afflictions may you know:
Forbear all farther questions.
HER. Is thy silence
Sufficient then to teach me what I wish
To learn?
AMP. O Jove, dost thou behold the curses
Hurled on thy son from envious Juno’s throne?
HER. What dire effects of her inveterate rage
Have I endured?
AMP. Of that vindictive goddess
No longer think: but to your own afflictions
Attend.
HER. Alas! I utterly am ruined!
What farther ill wouldst thou disclose?
AMP. See there
The corses of your murdered children lie.
HER. Alas! what dreadful objects strike these eyes!
AMP. My son, against your progeny you waged
An inauspicious war.
HER. Why talk of war?
Who slew them?
AMP. You, your arrows, and the cause
Of all these mischiefs, that remorseless goddess.
HER. What mean’st thou, or what crime have I committed,
My father, O thou messenger of ill?
AMP. By frenzy urged. But you such questions ask,
As I with grief must answer.
HER. Have I murdered
My consort also?
AMP. All these deeds of horror
That single arm did perpetrate.
HER. Alas!
A cloud of griefs surrounds me.
AMP. For this cause
Your fortunes I lament.
HER. Have I demolished
My own house too, with Bacchanalian rage
Inspired?
AMP. The whole of what I know amounts
To this, that you are most completely wretched.
HER. Where did this fatal madness seize me first?
AMP. As round the altar, you, a flaming brand,
To expiate the foul murder which distains
Your hands, were bearing.
HER. Ah! why lengthen out
A guilty life, when of my dearest children
I am become the murderer? Why delay
To leap from the high rock, or with a sword
Transpierce this bosom, on myself their blood
Avenging? or t’ avert that infamy
Which waits me, shall I rush into the flames?
But Theseus comes to bar these desperate counsels,
My kinsman and my friend; in a true light
To him shall I appear, and the pollution
I have incurred by slaying my own sons
Will be conspicuous to my dearest comrade.
What shall I do? or where can I find out
A solitude impervious to my woes?
On rapid wings, O could I mount, or plunge
Into the nether regions of the earth?
Give me a veil to darken o’er my head.
For ’tis with shame I think on the offence
Caused by this deed: but to myself alone
Ascribing the defilement of their blood,
I wish not to contaminate the guiltless.